


心臓を捧げる

by arabesque05



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabesque05/pseuds/arabesque05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Levi almost said "I love you" to Erwin--and the one time he did (too late).</p>
            </blockquote>





	心臓を捧げる

**Author's Note:**

> for the [snkkink meme prompt](http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/2124.html?thread=1976908#cmt1976908): "Five times Levi almost said "I love you" to Erwin...and the one time he did, it was already too late. Basically, I want it be cute and fluffy, maybe even a little humorous at first, but then take a sharp nosedive into angst." Prompter!anon, thank you.

**  
  
i.**  
  
Levi does not believe in love: not quite the disbelief he has in wall gods; more like how he does not believe in justice. It is an idea which exists fine in abstract, but Levi has yet to see it carried out in practice.  
  
Then some blond asshole comes along, with his freaky intense eyes and his creepy good manners, playing his cards close to the chest and always three steps ahead of everyone else. He could probably rule the Sina underground if he wanted to: he's clever enough, and ruthless enough, and--unlike Levi--he has the charisma. But the man doesn't want to, it seems. He doesn't want anything, apparently, except to take Levi out to lunch three days a week.  
  
"Are you fond of the sourdough? I have to say, it is a bit too sour for me," remarks Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps. He picks at his bread. "I prefer potatoes, to be honest."  
  
Levi eyes him, wary. Still, as Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps has not yet tried to poison Levi, he eats the bread. Levi has never turned down good food when presented with it: he has too much of the streets left in him for such waste.  
  
"Shall we try some baked potatoes tomorrow?" asks Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps, pleasantly.  
  
"You're a bit fucked in the head, aren't you?" replies Levi. "Fucking cat."  
  
Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps says without missing a beat, "I would hardly call you a mouse, Levi."  
  
"You're not playing with your food?" Levi asks, with a significant look at where Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps is still picking at his bread. Probably has never gone hungry a day in his life, thinks Levi, judging by the crumbs amassed on the tabletop.  
  
"I'm not going to arrest you."  
  
"Not _yet_."  
  
"No. I won't, at all. I don't make it a practice of doing the Military Police's work for them."  
  
"What the fuck are we doing then?"  
  
"Well," says Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps, nibbling around the crust of his bread. "I thought we'd get to know each other. Share some food. Converse. That sort of thing."  
  
Levi stares.  
  
He says, hoarsely, "...are you _dating me_?"  
  
"You quite won my heart the other day, when you kicked in the head of that fellow with the knife," replies Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps, blandly. "My knees were all a-tremble before you came along. Muggings are no joke."  
  
"Aren't you the Commander of the Recon Corps?" says Levi, flatly. "Regular thrill rides out into Titan territory and you were...'knees a-tremble' over a mugging?"  
  
"I am quite green, I assure you--very inexperienced," answers Commander Erwin Smith of the Recon Corps, imperturbable. He smiles at Levi. "And you should call me Erwin."  
  
"Fuck you," says Levi, who has never been outmaneuvered like this, nor taken out for dates over military sourdough rations. He's not sure which more to be angrier about.  
  
It isn't love, or anything close--but when Erwin leaves Wall Sina at the end of the month, Levi follows. The asshole's probably going to take over the world one day, or get stabbed in the back by all his mutinous subordinates if there's any justice in the world (Levi cannot imagine that his subordinates are anything but mutinous). Levi's going to be there for that.  
  
 **ii.**  
  
Levi _despairs_.  
  
"I thought this was the military," he says, staring at the ramshackle castle looming ahead of them.  
  
"It is," agrees Erwin.  
  
"Are those your _barracks_?" asks Levi.  
  
There are windows boarded up, and chickens running free in the courtyard. Some of the decorative molding along the gables are crumbling, and the weathervane is rusty. More importantly, the windows are streaked with grime and Levi knows, with horrible certainty, that there are probably _fungi_ growing in the dungeons.  
  
"I want to go back," declares Levi. "You liar. You conman. I hope you're constipated _for a week_."  
  
"Now, now," says Erwin, still playing at mild-mannered. "It isn't so bad. It's very picturesque, don't you think?"  
  
Levi does not think so in the slightest. The living quarters are even worse. There is apparently no orderly system of laundry, and blood-splattered uniforms are strewn about. There are beds unmade, dishes left dirty in the sink. The latrines are a _nightmare_ , and the dungeons. The dungeons make Levi want to boil his own hands, to disinfect them.  
  
"I--" says Levi faintly. "I feel like the stepmother brought home to a household of _heathens_."  
  
"Sweetheart," says Erwin, wryly.  
  
Levi takes a breath. He says, "First, you're an asshole. Second, you need to give me a rank so I can go bully your people to _clean shit_."  
  
Erwin looks around the courtyard, where they have concluded their tour of the barracks. He looks at Levi, and though he is not smiling, there is something about the set of his eyes that is less crazy-intense than usual: almost relaxed. He says, with suspicious blandness, "Sweetheart, they're _your_ kids too."  
  
"One day," promises Levi, "I will snap and murder you in your sleep."  
  
"Make it a good death, Captain," answers Erwin.  
  
Levi is torn for a moment between bashing Erwin's head in, like the smug fucker so deserves, and setting off with his new rank to put the fear of dirt into the men. Erwin will keep, decides Levi: if he wants to sleep in a clean bed tonight, he needs to start cleaning now. Besides, Erwin has had to _live_ in such filth for possibly _years_ before Levi came along. That's suffering enough.  
  
So determined, Levi says, "Go make my captaincy official," and departs to keep house for Erwin.  
  
 **iii.**  
  
After lunch, Hanji finds Levi on dishwashing duty. "Hey, have you seen my jar of--"  
  
"No," says Levi.  
  
"It's this murky blue--"  
  
"Go take a shit," says Levi.  
  
"I hope no one drank it. It's supposed to--"  
  
"I don't want to know," says Levi.  
  
"You'd think you'd be a little concerned about the health of your men," says Hanji.  
  
"If they're too dumb to know not to touch anything of yours, they're too dumb to be my men," replies Levi. "Besides. I'm on leave, right now. Not my problem."  
  
"You're on leave right now," echoes Hanji. "When the fuck did the Commander give _anyone_ leave? Why don't I have leave?"  
  
"Don't be an idiot," says Levi, rinsing off forks in warm soapy water. "I gave myself leave."  
  
"That is not how leave works," says Hanji.  
  
Levi does not listen. He looks out the windows above the sink, which open out onto the East Courtyard. Across the way, in the facing wing, are Erwin's offices. Levi muses, "He should take a leave, too."  
  
"Ohoho," laughs Hanji. "Who's the idiot? _I've_ taken leave more recently than the Commander."  
  
Levi glances at her over his shoulder. "When was that?"  
  
Hanji reaches up and adjusts her glasses. They gleam brightly in the afternoon sun. " _Never_."  
  
Levi looks at her for several more moments. Then he gives a derisive snort and turns back to the windows.  
  
"I love my darlings too much," says Hanji, breaking her dramatic pose. "And Commander, he loves plotting too much."  
  
"Hm," says Levi, noncommittal. There is only the sound of running water for a while. Eventually, Levi says, "Don't you have to go make sure you don't commit involuntary manslaughter?"  
  
"Why," gasps Hanji, batting her eyelashes and one hand fluttering up to cover her mouth, "Captain Levi _does_ care."  
  
"Fuck off," says Levi, which is no worse than his regular goodbyes. Hanji laughs at him, and then skips off to search for her devil-brew again.  
  
Levi finishes up washing the dishes, and then dries them too. By that time, the sun is starting to set, the kitchens cast into shadows. Levi dries his hands and then heads toward Erwin's offices.  
  
"I need to borrow you for a bit," Levi says, opening the door. Erwin, glasses on and reading reports, looks up.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Levi glances around the office. It's not exactly neat, and there's all together too many pages of loose paper floating around--but not unbearable. On a pleasing not, it's golden lit, sun-flushed, the late afternoon light streaming in through the open windows. "It'll do," decides Levi. "You can read on the couch."  
  
For a moment, Erwin looks like he might ask, _Why am I going to read on the couch?_ or _What is it, Levi?_ , or most depressingly, _What's going on?_ But in the end, Erwin gets out of his chair and relocates to the couch without a murmur. Promptly, Levi strips off his boots and claims the rest of the couch, curling up and tucking his head on Erwin's thigh.  
  
"...Ah," says Erwin. "Naptime, is it?"  
  
"Read your reports," yawns Levi, and--with soldierly readiness--falls asleep.  
  
Erwin looks at the dark head pillowed on his lap for several minutes, and huffs a little laugh. He does return to his reports, and if his hand sneaks into Levi's hair, brushing gently--no one is around to call him out on it.  
  
\--  
  
Erwin wakes up, a slight crick in his neck from being sprawled in a couch corner. He's alone in the room. The neck pain could have been much worse, though, reflects Erwin, finding the Recon Corps jacket someone had folded into a square and tucked between Erwin's neck and the back of the couch.  
  
Not even a little subtle, thinks Erwin ruefully, holding up the jacket: no on else in the corps has such slim shoulders and compact build.   
  
On the coffee table in front of him are his reports, laid out in neat stacks. The note on the top page says:  _blah blah blah, ridiculous pro/con analysis of latrine toilet model XF539 vs latrine toilet model XF39S, blah blah blah. Men can shit in trenches. Buy me more cleaning supplies._  There is a similar note at the top of the second report, uncomplimentary about food requisitions; and about salt requisitions at the beginning of the third. The fourth says only,  _Why does H even file reports? Murky blue gunk in the sewage pipes, of course it was her fault._  
  
From somewhere outside the castle, there is a small explosion followed by a crash. Mike's voice drifts in through the open windows, "Heave, boys--pull!"  
  
Erwin thinks about going to the window to see what is going on. Then he thinks about napping while Levi read through his reports for him, and took notes, and pillowed his head on Levi's jacket. Erwin has a pretty good idea what Levi meant.   
  
It would be a shame to waste such feelings. Mike--though it is unfortunate that he has to deal with the sewage pipes, consideringhis nose--has the situation well in hand. Erwin puts the reports into the 'Done' pile, and heads up to bed.  
  
 **iv.**  
  
For the most part, Levi has no complaints about Erwin being Corps Commander. Erwin is good at strategy, and effective, and if he is ruthless, he is never _wasteful_.  
  
Only, sometimes: Erwin being Corps Commander means that Erwin has to be Corps _Commander_ \--top brass, military branch head, dress uniforms with medals and ribbons and starched collars, reporting in at court in Sina.  
  
"No, fuck you," says Levi. "Go by yourself."  
  
"You're my second in command," says Erwin. "How will it look otherwise?"  
  
"Fuck you," Levi says again, more dismally. He says, "And I suppose I will have to play nice."  
  
"I am afraid so."  
  
"With swine," scowls Levi.  
  
"Yes," agrees Erwin.  
  
Levi drops onto the couch with a huff. "I'm not dressing up," he says.  
  
"Your uniform is fine."  
  
"Of course it is," mutters Levi. "You know why?"  
  
Erwin looks up from his papers.  
  
"They like the reminder," Levi says, with a smile Erwin has not seen in a long time: crooked and sharp, full of savage hunger. "I'm your mad dog, you know. That's what they call me."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Levi waves a hand. "In Sina."  
  
"Do they," says Erwin, with the blankness of tone that meant more a careful concealing of emotions than the lack of them. Anger is neither a hot nor cold thing with Erwin: only implacably terrible.  
  
"Are you offended?" Levi asks. He brightens. "Call them all dumb dipshits and get yourself uninvited. Forever."  
  
"We do need the funding, I'm afraid," says Erwin, returning to his papers. He reads a page. Then he says, "I am not offended."  
  
"No reason to be. I am a pretty good guard dog, even mad," agrees Levi, sullen.  
  
"You are not a dog at all," says Erwin firmly. "I have never put any stock in what the Military Police think."  
  
"Yeah, engaged in a little bit of aid and abet, didn't you, when we first met?" says Levi, sly. "Bit of casual kidnapping too, eh?"  
  
"You came with me fully consensual."  
  
"Came," laughs Levi, who is at once a bit of a dick and also twelve years old sometimes. "Consensual."  
  
Erwin looks disapprovingly at Levi from over the top of his papers. "You are a _puppy_ ," he declares.  
  
"Ooh, _kinky_ ," says Levi, but he sits up, restored to what passes as 'good-humor' for Levi. "Shall I fetch your slippers? Sit at your feet?"  
  
Erwin looks stern for another moment, and then he returns to his papers. "All right," he says, deliberately mild, and pushes his chair back a little from his desk.  
  
Levi doesn't move. He looks at Erwin's boots, polished to a shine. He doesn't even know if Erwin _owns_ slippers--certainly not in the field. As for the other thing--  
  
Erwin doesn't look at Levi again, nor move, nor say anything. For all intents and purposes, he has forgotten Levi's presence in the room. It is entirely Levi's choice--to leave, or take a nap on the sofa, or--  
  
Or stand up, and round Erwin's desk to come up next to his chair, and sit down cross-legged on the floor, by Erwin's feet, and rest his chin on Erwin's knee. Then it just seem more comfortable to turn his head, cheek on the muscle of Erwin's thighs. It is not so different from the couch. He can hear Erwin's steady breaths a little better. After a while, Erwin reaches up, turns the page, and--hand lowering--rests it in Levi's hair.  
  
They stay like that, quiet and comfortable, for some time.

  
**v.**  
  
Petra is making a birthday cake for Erd. Mike helps with mixing the batter. Hanji does not help at all, though she keep trying to slip "something fun" into the mix. Since Petra seems to be managing the situation fine, Levi feels no need to interfere. Still, that doesn't prevent him from perching on the ledge of an open window on the other end of the kitchen and heckling.  
  
"Hanji is a _menace_ ," he says, sipping a cup of freshly steeped tea.  
  
"Levi's dick is tiny," returns Hanji.  
  
"Oh, that's clever," says Levi. "Had trouble crapping this morning? It's not quite up to your usual levels, Hanji."  
  
"Sorry," says Mike to Petra. "I'm embarrassed for them. I don't know them, actually. We barely hang out, ever."  
  
"Mike," laughs Petra. "You don't have to--"  
  
"What a turncoat," grumps Hanji. "Ingrate. After all the trouble I went to make this for you. C'mon, let's try just a little bit, Mike."  
  
"Try it in your _own_ cake, Hanji," says Mike, warding Hanji off with one arm. "Oi, aren't you going to come help, Levi?"  
  
"No," says Levi.  
  
"He's just bitter no one made him a cake," says Hanji.  
  
"Oh--Captain!" says Petra, turning to Levi with wide horrified eyes. "Oh, no."  
  
He waves her off. "Don't worry about it. I don't have a birthday."  
  
"Don't have a--!" says Petra. Then she catches herself, visibly remembering the rumors about who and what Levi had been before the Corps. "Ah--well, maybe we should...pick a day? I'm sure we'd all like to celebrate with you."  
  
"You can celebrate with me while I celebrate with Erd, then," says Levi. "Don't do unnecessary things, Petra."  
  
Hanji leans in and stage whispers, "He steals some of the Commander's cake, don't worry."  
  
"The Commander's cake?"  
  
"Yeah, they light it twice. Levi gets to make a wish too," says Mike. "Every year: 'Let me grow one more centimeter.'"  
  
"I'll fight you, Zakarius."  
  
"You know," says Hanji, finally giving up on the cake batter and sauntering across the kitchen. "You could ask me, Levi, for growth hormone ther--"  
  
Discretion, Erwin says, is sometimes the better part of valor. Levi sets his cup down on the window ledge, turn his body, and jumps out. From behind him, he hears Hanji shout, "We're three floors up, Levi you fucker! Do you even have your gear on?"  
  
Feh. What's three floors? He lands on the grass below, bending low, and then straightens. Hanji shouts something about, "Do you even have bones? Can you stop by my lab sometime? Let me take a look, Levi." He looks up, raises a finger in "fuck you" salute, and then lopes off in the general direction of the laundry: maybe there are uniforms that need ironing.  
  
Besides, they're wrong. Levi doesn't really need to grow any taller. He couldn't make such jumps if he were Mike's height. He doesn't ask for more centimeters.  
  
He asks to be faster, stronger--to be a better soldier. They are not grand wishes. Erwin is the one who makes the grand plans, who asks for world peace, or freedom, or the restoration of man's dignity or whatever. Levi only wants to keep Erwin alive, so he can accomplish such things.  
  
 **0.**  
  
"I count sixteen, from the southwest," says Connie. "Smallest are eight-meters. Coming in slow but definitely heading for us."  
  
Jean adds, "I got eight, from the southeast. Smallest are two-meters."  
  
Sasha, from the the middle, says, "I have trees, to the south."  
  
"We're fucked," says Connie feelingly.  
  
Eren looks around: Christa bandaging his wounds in the the wagon with him, and Hanji and Armin bent over Eren's father's log book. Mikasa, stoic on her horse, following them; Connie and Jean to the sides, and Sasha in front. A couple of Garrison soldiers to the perimeters, and in the very front, the Commander, his hair bright under the sunlight, with the Captain next to him. All in all, a rather underwhelming force.  
  
"I can--" says Eren, trying to sit up.  
  
"No, you _can't_ ," says Christa. "You don't even have your legs back yet."  
  
Eren doesn't look down at his legs. It's better most of the time not to realize that your limbs are missing, even temporarily.  
  
"We turn right at the trees, up the hills, and it's a day's ride back, isn't it?" says Eren.  
  
"Two hours till sunset," says Jean. "We're going to want to ride through the night."  
  
"Just until sunset, then," says Sasha--the hope of everyone: _just hold until sunset_.  
  
In front, the Commander and Captain suddenly break ranks, circling back to draw up next to the wagon. "Hanji," says the Commander. "How is it? Enough?"  
  
"Hush," says Hanji. "Stop bothering me. This is amazing. Amazing. Isn't it, Armin?"  
  
"We'll figure it out," promises Armin.  
  
"I'll help," adds Christa.  
  
"Have to get the entire wagon back then," says the Captain. He thumps a boot against the side of the wagon, next to where Eren is lying. "'Sides, it's not like there's any way we're getting this ass twerp on a horse."  
  
"Ass twerp," murmurs Jean, lips pressed into too straight a line.  
  
"Sir, we can--" Connie begins.  
  
"No, rejected," says the Captain. He's tightening the straps at his waist and thighs. Eren thinks, suddenly cold, _Oh._ "Christa, we have any spare blades in there?"  
  
"Levi," says the Commander, quietly.  
  
Levi looks up at the Commander. After a moment, he says, "Can you do it, Erwin? With the notebook? And Hanji? Christa? It's not just a hope, anymore?"  
  
"...I can," says the Commander, low. "I will."  
  
"Well," says Levi, returning to his buckles. His movements are practiced, economical. "Then I will do this, too."  
  
"Go to the trees," says the Commander. "And--" He pauses, uncharacteristic. "When you can. When it's safe, disengage. Come back."  
  
"When it's safe," agrees Levi.  
  
"Levi," says the Commander again.  
  
"Ah, fuck you," says Levi, "go talk to those Garrison dumbshits. They don't know how to follow a formation if it plugged them up the ass."  
  
The Commander heaves a sigh, but guides his horse back up front. Connie ventures again, "We can--"  
  
"You're not coming with me," says Levi. "What kind of pisspoor soldier do you think I am, to need the help of trainee rejects not even wet behind the ears? I'm _Levi_ of the Recon Corps, what the fuck, did you all forget?"  
  
"Hoo-rah," says Hanji, not looking up from the book. "I'll buy you a round when you get back, Levi."  
  
"Buying," instructs Levi, reaching over to take spare blades from Christ and sliding them in, two to a slot. "I don't want any of your homemade shit. Almost died last time."  
  
"Light weight," says Hanji.  
  
Maybe not so dire, then, thinks Eren, if Hanji is not worried. Except: Christa is frowning at the wagon seat and--Hanji is clutching at the wood with one hand, mostly-hidden by the wagon siding and her own leg. Her knuckles are white.  
  
Preparations apparently finished, Levi urges his horse forward; but then changes his mind. He holds it steady to let Mikasa catch up, and then--taking her horse's bridle in hand--leans in and says something low. Mikasa nods.  
  
Levi does push his horse forward then. He canters up next to the Commander, and then veers to the left, toward the copse of trees. A few strides into it, though, he turns his horse around.  
  
"Erwin!" He calls.  
  
The Commander looks up.  _E_ _veryone_ looks up. Levi is saluting, one fist to his chest, the other behind his back. He looks--not cheerful, Levi never looks cheerful--but hale, and strong, and _alive_. "I offer my heart!" he recites, chin held high and back straight. But it doesn't not sound like a recitation or a salutation at all. The sincerity is absolute.  
  
The Commander brings a hand up and salutes back. The expression on his face, when Eren dares to look, is terrible.  
  
\--  
  
The ride becomes quiet. "Twenty- _four_ ," whispers Connie to Jean. "Not to speak of defeating them, how do you even _corral_ that many?"  
  
"Captain Levi of the Recon Corps," says Mikasa, coming up next to them, "is worth a hundred men in the battlefield. A hundred soldier is sufficient for corralling."  
  
"What did he say to you?" asks Eren.  
  
Mikasa looks out over the grass hills. "He said, as he guarded you when I could not; so I am charged with the Commander's safety in his absence."  
  
"Oh," says Eren, lying back down. Final orders of duty, he supposes.  
  
"It was," says Mikasa, still looking out over the grasslands, "very important to him."  
  
\--  
  
No Titans follow them. When twilight falls, they light the torches and continue. Armin and Hanji finish up the book by lantern light. Afterwards, they have a furious discussion in quiet undertones, which end with Hanji asking, "Do you understand? Do you understand?"  
  
Armin says, "Yes."  
  
"All right, then," says Hanji. She looks around. "Connie, how's your horse?"  
  
"She's all right," says Connie. "Got ridden a bit hard yesterday, but shouldn't be too tired right now."  
  
"Good. Switch places with me."  
  
On Connie's horse, Hanji canters up next to the Commander. "Yes," Eren hears the Commander's low voice. "Go." Hanji takes a torch from one of the Garrison men, and, with thundering hoof-beats, disappears into the night.  
  
\--  
  
They draw up the wall gates even before the moon has begun her descent. "Get your horses brushed and quartered," says the Commander, as they pull into the Garrison barracks. "Get some sleep. Report tomorrow."  
  
But either everyone has trouble sleeping like Eren, or maybe some of them didn't even try to, like the Commander, because they are all up and outside when they hear a horse coming into the courtyard, just after dawn. The horse is sweat-lathered--obviously ridden hard. Hanji descends, and then hands the horse off to a Garrison soldier. The expression on her face is telling.  
  
Still, the Commander steps forward. "Report," he says.  
  
Hanji straightens her back and snaps into a salute. "Sir! Captain Levi of the Recon Corps has bravely carried out his appointed mission, sir! Until death, sir!"  
  
"Ah," says the Commander. He does not say anything for a very long moment. Finally: "Did you bury him, Hanji?"  
  
"As well as I could, sir."  
  
"All right," says the Commander. "Dismissed."  
  
"Sir," says Hanji, relaxing slightly. She doesn't leave though.  
  
The Commander glances toward at the new-risen sun. "Get some sleep, Hanji. We'll need the rest of your report, today."  
  
"Sir," says Hanji. "I think--my room. My room needs to be cleaned, sir."  
  
"Oh?" says the Commander. There is another one of those terrible silences: enough space for a heart to be sutured functional, if not whole. He says, "Yes. It might."  
  
"And. I have. I have some--...He was always such a lightweight, you know, he never could drink--"  
  
"Yes," agrees the Commander. He looks at Hanji. "Shall we then? Breakfast? Some bread, perhaps? I'm partial to sourdough."  
  
Hanji laughs, a little wetly. "You hate sourdough."  
  
"Do I," murmurs the Commander.  
  
If he says anything else, Eren does not hear. Mikasa is tugging on his arm, leading him back inside. Eren's grief has always been an explosive thing, but there are other forms, he understands. Some of them so private, it resides only in the heart. When he sneaks one last glance back, the two of them have not moved, still standing in the golden light of a new day. Hanji is drooping wearily, both from grief and from having ridden through the night: but the Commander looks no less broad-shouldered, no less tall, no less capable.  
  
He only looks as if he has lost his shadow.  
  
\--  
  


_i offer you my heart_  
  
 **  
**


End file.
